all these empty faces (i gave you something, but you gave me nothing)
by wouldtheywriteasongforyou
Summary: "I saw a woman kill herself today." / Iko freezes. "What? Jesus, Cinder, start at the beginning."
1. Chapter 1

**author's note:**

Inspired by Zayn and Taylor Swift's "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" and Orphan Black.

current aesthetic: inception. you're waiting for a train.

* * *

 **all these empty faces (I gave you something, but you gave me nothing)**

1.

I pretend to be asleep. It's the only way I can make train rides bearable. My earbuds are in and the Arctic Monkeys are indulging my wild and dark side, but even my usual escapes can't mask the hacking cough of my seat neighbor or the sway of the train car. I wish I were back at my garage shop taking things apart and then fixing them up. There are so many projects I abandoned in my haste to leave.

Thinking about them gets me too keyed up to keep up the ruse of being asleep. I jiggle my right foot and mentally review the directions. My eyes flick up to the line map above the seats. Two more stops. Or am I supposed to get off at the next one? It's nighttime, and I can't make out any of the landmarks or surroundings outside. The only thing I can see is the reflection of the other train passengers in the train windows. Their vacant stares are a million miles away even though we're only a few feet apart. I'm reminded why I can't stand riding on the train. The lack of humanity freaks me out.

"Next stop, New Beijing," announces the train conductor overhead.

That's me. I jump to my feet and am the first at the doors as we pull into the station. The train screeches to a halt. I'm on the platform before the doors are fully open. And when the train leaves, I don't spare it a second glance.

It's not too busy on the train platform at this time of night, although the exiting crowd sweeps me upstream. Before I make it to the stairs, though, I spy a pay phone. I should call and let her know that I'm here, that everything will be alright soon. If all goes well, we'll finally be able to be together. Peony. My baby. I fight to break free of the crowd, and then I'm stumbling towards the phone. I dig around in the pockets of my shorts and pray that I have enough to make the call. Twenty-five, thirty, fifty, seventy, seventy-two.

"Spades," I swear with feeling. I'm three cents short. I scan the ground desperately but don't find anything besides used chewing gum and questionable stains.

I search my pockets again and double-check my pocket change. No luck. I pick up the phone anyway in case by some miracle the person before me had pre-paid the call, but of course that turns out to be fruitless and is just wishful thinking on my part. I slam the phone back onto its receiver and glare at the offending object.

As quickly as it came, the initial frustration leaves. I glance around to see if anyone else has seen my embarrassing display of emotion. The crowd that I had been caught in earlier has dispersed, leaving the platform relatively empty. I breathe out a sigh of relief. I'm in the clear.

For some strange reason, my eye catches on a woman standing over by the ARRIVALS schedule board. Her back is to me so I can't see her face, but her blouse and pencil skirt clearly suggest that she's on her way home from work. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Even though she's a good distance away from me, I can tell that her hair is a dark brown, almost black, similar to mine. Her large handbag is on the ground. She steps out of her high heels and places them carefully next to her purse. I watch, not quite understanding, as she unclasps her necklace and drops it gently into her bag.

There is an announcement that the next train will arrive in thirty seconds.

Her head turns in my direction. She stares at me for a long moment. She doesn't look surprised, which is odd because I am completely stunned. A shiver dances down my spine. It's not her face looking at me. It's mine. I see the same almond-shaped brown eyes and high cheekbones that I see when I look in the mirror. I blink in confusion, and our shared moment is gone. She turns away and heads to the platform's edge. But then she keeps going until she's on the tracks.

The ground shakes as the train approaches. Its lights flood the terminal.

She doesn't stop.

Neither does the train.

My eyes widen in shock, and I instinctively turn my head away. My blood is racing in my veins. One moment she was here and now she's not. The stranger who looked exactly like me. I'm having trouble comprehending what I saw, but my brain has switched into flight mode and is screaming at me to leave the scene. I came to New Beijing to start my life over. A clean slate. I can't be tangled up in police statements and witness reports.

The train conductor is on the platform, flashlight in hand as he investigates underneath the train, and a crowd is already starting to form. Sirens wail in the distance. They quickly get louder as they approach.

I back away slowly. The exit is close by. I can slip away without anyone noticing but I have to act fast. It just so happens that the arrivals schedule board is on route to the exit. I can't remember consciously making the decision, but the next thing I know, I've scooped up the woman's handbag and shoes in my arms as I pass by. I don't know why I do it. I do know that I will forever be haunted by her face, though, and how similar it was to mine. I need to find out who she was. A long-lost identical twin? A doppelganger? Or maybe simply a stranger, no further explanation needed.

But I can figure it out somewhere else other than here.

And so I disappear, just as quickly as she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**author's note:**

I appreciate the follows and reviews I've gotten so far!

current aesthetic: "river" bishop briggs

* * *

 **all these empty faces (i gave you something, but you gave me nothing)**

2.

Iko frowns when she sees me standing on her doorstep. "Cinder."

I adjust the strap of the bag over my shoulder and give her my best winning smile. I feel like I've sprained a cheek muscle in doing so. I had no idea my face would contort like that. "Hi, sister."

"Oh, stars, please stop. That thing you're doing with your face is truly frightening."

I roll my eyes at her sass and say, "Are you gonna let me in?"

She does, but there's an undercurrent of reluctance. Iko closes the door behind her and regards me with her hands on her hips. "Okay, so what are you doing here?"

I don't come to New Beijing very often, so I'm not too offended that Iko wasn't expecting me to drop by. I put off answering her question and take a moment to look around her apartment. She's completely redone it since the last time I was here. The single room used to be decked out in beach decor but now it looks like Iko is in some yoga spiritual phase. Floor cushions in exotic prints replace the pullout couch I'm familiar with. Incense burns over by the window. A yoga mat leans up against the far corner of the main room. Ferns drape down from macrame hanging baskets.

I drop the dead woman's bag onto the kitchen table as I head into the kitchen area. I don't want it touching me any longer. I pull open the refrigerator door and find that Iko's fridge is stocked full of vegetables and smoothies. There's not a single unhealthy thing in sight. My nose wrinkles up in disgust. Rabbit food. I guess her new lifestyle includes things like juice cleanses and detoxing. I sigh and settle for a tub of hummus dip and pita chips. I'm so hungry, though. I doubt it'll provide me with much sustenance.

"I'm here for Peony," I tell Iko in between mouthfuls of food.

Iko looks at her nails. "Like Adri is going to let you just take her."

I eye her sharply. "Peony's my daughter. She's going to have to."

"You were gone for a long time, Cinder," Iko says in a softer tone. She pins me down with a direct stare. "Months on end without a whisper or trace of you or when you'd pop in next. Things change, you know? People change. I'm just saying."

My eyes flick away. "I know," I say because there's really no denying that I fucked up. "But I'm back, now. And I'm done. No more running, no more hiding. New leaf and clean slate and all that."

Iko twirls the end of her braid around her index finger. "So you say." She blows out a breath and shrugs. "Whatever. This shit is too heavy to deal with right now. Nice bag, by the way."

The thing I love most about Iko is that she can't hold grudges. And because she doesn't like conflict, she's also a pro at changing the topics of conversations. Unfortunately, this topic shift isn't any better.

"It's not mine," I tell her.

She lets out a laugh. "Stealing is your idea of turning over a new leaf, Cin?" Iko shakes her head and steps forward to give the bag a closer look. "Okay, tell me the story."

"I saw a woman kill herself today."

Iko freezes. "What? Jesus, Cinder, start at the beginning."

I recount what I saw at the train station. I'm still so confused, though. Why that woman looked at me. Why she looked just like me. Why she stepped in front of the train.

"She looked like you?" Iko repeats.

"Yeah." A sudden thought comes to my mind. I dump out the contents of her bag onto the kitchen table and sift through them until I find what I'm looking for. Pill bottles, house keys, two cell phones: one a smartphone, the other a dinged up pay-by-the-minute flip phone, wallet. There. Found it. "See for yourself," I say as I slide the woman's driver's license out of her wallet and show it to Iko.

"Oh my God," Iko breathes out. She glances at the face on the piece of plastic, then at me. "You're not kidding." But then she screws her face up in suspicion. "Wait. This isn't a fake ID, right? Like your plan about taking Peony and starting over doesn't include creating a new identity?"

I scowl at the lack of faith Iko has in me to do things right this time around. "I'm not that desperate," I say. "Yet."

Iko shrugs and doesn't apologize. I didn't expect her to.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. A woman - who looks like a carbon copy of you - kills herself at the train station today. You took the stuff she left behind on the platform. Which is, by the way, kind of messed up," she says. "So now what?"

I motion for her to pass me the woman's ID. "Now I find answers," I reply. I glance down at the card and at my face smiling up at me. "Answers like if this Belle Watson woman is my twin sister or not."

"And how are you going to find that out?" Iko asks. "I mean, I don't think she is. Her birthday is dated one and half weeks earlier than yours."

"Still, don't you find that strange?" I ask Iko. "That's really close. Too close to be a coincidence, don't you think? And when you're poor little orphans like we were, well, haven't you always dreamed of having a family before?"

"No," Iko says simply. "I had you."

The black smartphone starts ringing, startling both of us and saving me from having to respond. I don't do well with the sappy emotional stuff. I pick Belle's phone up and check the caller ID. The screen lights up with a single name: Adam.

Iko looks at me. It rings again in my hand. "Answer it," she dares.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right." That's a whole can of worms I don't feel like opening tonight. I've had a long enough day as it is. I end the call and scoop Belle's stuff back into her bag. "Sorry, Adam. I need answers. And I think the only way I'm going to find them is by going to her house and checking things out in person."

"So you can snoop around and take more of her stuff?" Iko jokes.

"Ha ha, very funny," I respond.

Iko grins. "I know, I crack myself up." She lets out a yawn and checks her watch. "It's getting kind of late, Cin. Maybe you should save your breaking and entering skills for tomorrow. Until then, you're welcome to crash here."

"Good idea, thanks," I say. It used to be that I was always welcome here, so it's kind of weird that we're back at the stage where I have to be invited to stay over. But that's my fault. I burnt a lot of bridges in the past. At least this is one that looks like it can still be repaired.

Later, I flip the driver's license over and over in my hands as I settle into my makeshift bed for the night. One question loops on repeat in my head.

 _Who are you, Belle Watson?_


	3. Chapter 3

**author's note:**

Only two more days at my job and then I am ~free~ (for the summer lol).

current aesthetic: "never let me go" florence + the machine

* * *

 **all these empty faces (i gave you something, but you gave me nothing)**

3.

I don't waste any time the next morning. I'm up and ready to go house hunting before Iko's alarm goes off for her pre-dawn yoga. Before I leave, I turn her electric kettle on to boil water for her so that it's waiting when she wakes up to make her cup of tea. It's the least I can do considering the shit I've put her through. Then I head out.

It turns out that Belle lives close to Iko. Her address is a couple blocks walk away and leads me into the more metropolitan side of town. Market stalls line the street. Vendors unload their trucks and prepare for a busy day of selling. Besides the bakery, none of the brick-and-mortar shops are open yet. I move towards Sacha's Bakery, drawn in by the sight of muffins and honey buns. But on the other side of the display window, a large woman wearing a flour-dusted apron frowns and eyes me with disdain. She makes a shooing gesture, a clear dismissal, and then turns away to yell at a little boy who is laughing and running around the empty tables.

"Good morning, Belle!"

I'm still frozen and stunned by the blatant hostility in the baker's dark eyes. It takes me a moment to realize that I am Belle to these people, not Cinder, and that right now someone is talking to me.

"And where are you off to today?" the same person asks. I quickly figure out that it's the friendly-looking street vendor on my right who is speaking to me. He's bent over in his van and in the process of unloading crates to sell from his market stall.

"Um…," I stall. I can't have her neighbors thinking that I'm robbing Belle. "I actually was just returning back home. I forgot something."

"Of course you did," he smiles as he passes crate after crate of what looks to be filled with egg cartons. "What's that, the third time this week?"

I laugh nervously.

"Well, I won't keep you longer. See you around and hope you feel better, Belle!" Noticing my confused look, he makes a funny gesture to his throat and tries to explain himself. "Oh, my apologies. I thought you were catching a cold; your voice sounds a little hoarse."

My eyes widen. Aces. I didn't even think that Belle's and my voice would sound different. Before I can come up with an excuse, two women approach the stall and demand that they need six eggs and that the vendor's prices are too expensive. The vendor gives me a hurried goodbye and then rushes off to deal with his customers.

I back away from the scene as inconspicuously as I can. It suddenly dawns to me that I may have rushed into this without thinking it through. I'm starting to get in way over my head. In my search for finding out answers about this Belle woman, I've suddenly taken over her life. Beyond the fact that I don't want people to think I'm breaking into her house, I don't know why it didn't occur to me to correct these people and tell them that I'm not Belle.

"'Lo, Belle," a man wheezes.

I stiffen, wondering who it is going to be this time. I turn towards the voice to see a bum giving me a nod in recognition. He slouches by a nondescript alcove leading to a door with the number 291 overhead: it matches the same address on Belle's ID.

I wave back at him cautiously and then hurry up the steps towards the door. I'm glad that he said something because otherwise I would've blinked and missed the entrance to the apartment complex. But he's another liability, one more person to add to the witness list of seeing Belle today.

The door leads into a small lobby with mailboxes on one side and the elevator straight ahead. I make a beeline for the elevator and jab the up button firmly. I really don't want to run into anyone else that Belle knows. Knew. I'm beginning to think more and more that I shouldn't have come. Belle is dead. What are these people going to think when the body is identified and they claim they saw her walking around?

Unless…

What if it's not Belle's body that is identified on the railroad tracks, but mine?

Iko's words from last night play over in my head. She was half-joking about Belle being my fake identity. It wasn't my intention to become her when I picked up the dead woman's bag from the train station, but I think about the debts I owe and the dealers demanding money from me that I don't have. Gone. All of it would be erased if I were dead.

The elevator arrives. I step in and contemplate the merit of the idea as I push the button for Belle's floor. If I manage to pull this off, this could be my second-chance. My clean slate that I need. Peony and I would no longer be saddled with my past. And just like that, my mind is made up.

I get out of the elevator on Belle's floor and count the doors until I'm standing outside of hers. I try the doorknob. It's locked. Shrugging, I open the purse she left behind at the station and pull out Belle's key ring. It takes a few trials, but I finally find the one that works.

I drop the key ring back in the bag and quietly edge into the room. The lights are off.

"Hello?" I call out. No one responds. I breathe out a sigh of relief. Again, it occurs to me that I hadn't really thought things through before I came. Stars only knows what I would have done if Belle had a roommate she lived with.

I flip the light switch and the room is illuminated in a gentle glow. The far wall is all made of glass windows and must face east because I have a spectacular view of the sunrise. Abstract art hangs on the other three walls. It's not really my style - pricey and pretentious, by the looks of the paint splattered on the canvas - but I guess I have to pretend to like it if I'm going to be Belle.

 _The ruse is only for a few days,_ I tell myself as I head into the kitchen. _Long enough so you can get some univs and Peony and then get the hell out of New Beijing._

I pause as I near the refrigerator. Tacked onto it are pictures of Belle. It really is uncanny how much we look alike. But I'm not interested in figuring out why anymore. At least not right now. Peony and our getaway is back to being my priority. I snort at the picture of the person behind the camera flicking off a shirtless guy flexing his muscles and hamming it up for the shot. He's not bad-looking, I have to admit. But definitely not my type. I take the photo down and flip it to its reverse side. GASTON is written on it with a date. Paperclipped underneath the photo is a printed business travel itinerary.

I pocket that and put the photo back and head towards Belle's bedroom next. It's simple, generic, and clean. The bed is neatly made; of course, no one came home last night to sleep in it. Just like the main room, Belle's bedroom is devoid of any true emotion or personality.

I go to her closet and continue my exploring. Lines of pencil skirts and navy and gray conservative clothes are hung up in a straight rows. Sensible heels are stacked in a shoe cubby. Books take up more room than clothes. I smirk. So she does have a guilty pleasure. My attention shifts to the other half of the closet. It's just as neat, but menswear occupies the space. Suits and ties, freshly pressed slacks, button-down shirts. A hunting gun is propped up in the back. Oh, for spade's sake. She does have a boyfriend.

The bathroom shows even more signs of domestic bliss. Their toothbrushes lay side-by-side as does her makeup bag and his shaving kit. I open their medicine cabinet and let out a swear. It's stocked fuller than a pharmacy. And it's serious, heavy-duty stuff, too. Antidepressants, opioids, amphetamines. I thumb through the pill bottles. They all have Belle's name on them.

I make myself close the door to their medicine cabinet. I tell myself that I don't need to deal these out on the street. That's the hard-knock life I'm trying to leave behind. Surely, Belle can help me out financially in a more safe and legal way.

I check out the last room in the apartment. It's her office. A holo-printer sits on the edge of her desk. Her appointment calendar is purposely blank for the rest of the year. I rifle through her papers and bills. They're of no value to me. It's not until I check the last desk drawer do I find her checkbook and previous bank statements. Perfect. I memorize her bank account number and cross-reference her signature with the one on her ID. Then I spend a couple minutes practicing her signature on a spare memo pad. Soon, I can flawlessly duplicate it. With this information, I can stop by her bank and withdraw some, if not all, of her assets. I reason that it's unlikely she needs her money anymore. Peony and I could use the univs to live comfortably for a bit while we get settled into our new lives. Next, I just need to find the keys to Belle's hovercar for my getaway escape.


End file.
